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Today I had one of those priceless moments while talking with a friend in which I got a chance to look back on my old self. My college self. I saw the self conscious, almost self loathing girl of 18. Afraid of who I was and who I could become. Afraid that I wasn’t good enough. Afraid that if I were really myself, people wouldn’t like me or want to be my friend. I hid behind a smile…most of the time. I seemed vibrant, confident, and headed for success. But I thrived on praise from others to grow my self worth instead of reassurance from myself and from God that I was doing the right thing. Needless to say, it was a tumultuous time…and I stumbled all over the place with roommates, friends, and even dates.

In that moment, I saw myself then and looked at how far I’ve come. OK with the fact that I’m not perfect, and never will be in this life. A positive thinker. When I look in the mirror, I see someone worthwhile. When I look at my life, I LOVE what I see. Honest with myself and others. Still a people pleaser sometimes, but aware of it at least. And in that moment, I was grateful for the journey. A little sorrowful for the “could have beens” if I had just been a little more true to myself…but grateful that I wasn’t still in that place. That in the last 13 years, I had found myself. Grateful for my 30’s and the self assurance and peace they’ve brought me.

The new people in my neighborhood and ward can attest to the fact that my life isn’t perfect. My husband is gone a lot with his duties with the Air Force. I can’t seem to make it through a 3 hour block of church without crying for a few minutes (sometimes because I feel so happy…but lately because I feel somewhat overwhelmed wrestling 2 boys for 3 hours). My house will never be as clean as I’d like it to be for the next year and a half. Decorating is a slow affair…and might be finished sometime in the next decade. But hey…this is me right now. This is my time and season. I feel a little embarrassed about being an emotional basket case from time to time, but I feel in my gut that there’s something to learn from this experience…and if it takes some tears and hard work, so be it. My house might be smudged in dirty little handprints…but those are the hand prints of MY kids. I still remember the years when I didn’t have any kids and I longed for those dirty little hand prints…and now I have them in abundance. I may not always be perfectly coifed…today I spent most of the day with snot stains on the shoulders of my black shirt (from my youngest son)…but I’m happy.

I’m so grateful for today. I’m grateful for how far I’ve come, and how far I have yet to go. I’m grateful for all of the experiences (good and bad) that have made me ME! I’m excited to look back on the next 13 years and see that I’m even better then than I am now. Here’s to 13 more years of growth!

Dorothy said “There’s no place like home”…and boy, is that ever true! For months, we’ve been displaced. First living amongst the piles and boxes in our English cottage, waiting for the movers to take it all away. Then for a month and a half, sleeping on floor futons, eating off of paper plates with plastic forks, cooking in aluminum disposable pans. Next came a move into temporary housing while we searched for a house. And lately, for the last 4 weeks, bouncing between a temporary apartment and my sister-in-law’s house while we wait for the closing date on our home.

Christmas has still been a Merry affair this year. There’s been plenty of goodwill, homebaked goodies, SNOW!, Christmas music, and shopping to keep us all merry and bright. We’ve still enjoyed snuggling our kiddos in the sleeping bags on our floor and telling the story of Christ’s birth (and have been amazed by how much our little Weslee remembers each night). But something is still missing. Perhaps it’s the fact that we’re still sleeping on the floor futons, eating off of our plastic and paperware, stepping over the mounds of suitcases holding our clothing and important documents. Maybe it’s the lack of tree. No lights. Maybe it’s the fact that we are still eating all of our meals on the floor. But I think the most likely reason of all is just that we have no place to call our own.

There’s something to be said for a place of your very own, where you can paint the walls whatever color your heart desires, sit on your own furniture, make a mess and not worry about it, plan for the future and invite friends over. While staying with my sister-in-law this past week (who lives 5 minutes from our new home), I’d often drive by for a few minutes and just look at our new place and wonder what great things will happen here. I’d imagine the hard work to rehabilitate the yard (it’s a foreclosure). The meals we’d have with friends yet unmade. The days walking my children to the nearby elementary school. What on earth I’m going to do to decorate. Thanksgiving with my family next year. Sitting by the fireplace reading books. And the smell of fresh bread coming out of the oven.

So far it looks like our story will begin in this house just days before Christmas. And while it’s not the exact house I’ve always dreamed of (I just LOVE houses with history), I love it just the same. And when I’m done with it, it will be the exact kind of home I’d hoped we’d have…a place of love, growth and happiness.

This post is obviously late. It’s been a wild ride this past month. But, we’re finally starting to settle into semi-normal life. (Nothing will be normal until we’re in our final residence and have beds, and dressers, and organization again. Living out of a suitcase is a test of patience…that is for sure). But, earlier this week we received our air shipment with our “more essential” items…pots, pans, blankets, toys, children’s books, preschool items, etc…and of course, my business computer. We finally bought a card table to put it on and set it up last night. It felt so nice to download the last month’s pictures and begin working again. I’ve missed editing.

This year’s Halloween was utterly magical for the kids AND me. Something about being back in the States. The temperature was JUST right…cool, nice fall breeze, but not cold. The light. Oh, I could have eaten it it was so delicious. Golden, stretching through the last crimson and gold autumn leaves, bending around the houses. The neighbors, happy and friendly. The children, giddy and sugar crazed. The friends, warm and welcoming. The food (stew and homemade bread) divine. The candy abundant. It was never written more perfectly in any children’s book. It was all a child could hope for…a little scary, a lot enchanting. At one point the sap in me came out and I literally cried. Just a few tears, but I cried for joy to see my children enjoying the traditions I grew up with.

This Halloween was not very well planned. A store bought Superman suit, a hand-me-down cowboy get up. But it didn’t matter. Not one bit.